


How much is that doggie in the window?

by Cibbs



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 16:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13861206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibbs/pseuds/Cibbs
Summary: Sherlock always wanted a dog. Will his parents buy one for him someday?





	How much is that doggie in the window?

How much is that doggie in the window?

How much is that doggie in the window?

Woof, woof!

The one with the wiggly tail

How much is that doggie in the window?

Woof, woof! I do hope that doggie is for sale.

 

 

To Marras, our old Shih-Tzu. In memoriam.

 

INTRODUCTION

Living room at 221B Baker Street in a rainy Sunday evening. John, sitting in his armchair, with his legs on a puff, reads a newspaper. Sherlock, on the other hand, moves around the papers in his file and throws them to the floor.

"What the hell I have done with that little paper?" He thinks. "Oh, shit! The more you digitalize the more paper you have. Damn! Damn!"

And he carries on with his duties. When he takes a pad of paper fastened with a rubber band, the photograph of a child who has an Irish Setter puppy on his feet smelling his trousers, falls. The dog wears, so does the child, a pirate's hat. John raises his eyes from the paper he's reading and stands to catch the photo.

"Well, well!" He says, laughing. "Your brother was right. You wanted to be a pirate. But... Who's your little friend, Sherlock?"

And the doctor shows the picture to his friend. Sherlock, unable of saying nothing, takes his violin, abandons the living room and goes to his dormitory, where a melancholic melody starts to sound. John, at first, can't hear it because of the music, but some minutes later, he distinguishes Sherlock's sobbing.

CHAPTER I

"Sherlock?" Says John softly while he knocks on the bedroom's door. " Sherlock!?"

"You can't come in". Answers the detective, trying to hide his crying. "I have bolted the door."

Then, Mrs. Hudson appears in the corridor with a metal tray in her hands in which is a plate of mashed potato, sausages, peas and sauce.

"Blimey! Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Says John. "What a wonderful dinner! I'm going to eat it all."

"Get stuffed, John! You have already dinner. You had crumbs on the corners of your mouth."

Some minutes pass before John says, not without some anger:

"Sherlock, my patience has a limit. I'm going to come in."

Takes a card from his wallet and introduces it into the slot between the door and its frame. Some seconds later, he achieves to open the bolt.

What he sees in the dormitory horrifies him. Sherlock is sobbing his heart out, hiding his face on his bed's pillow. It is the first time that he sees the great detective, the thinking machine, somebody who is all brain and no feelings, crying inconsolably.

"Poor thing!" He thinks while he holds him tight against his body. But Sherlock never liked hugs, so he turns rigid and pushes his colleague in order to get rid of him.

"Oh! Yes, sorry." John whispers. "No hugs. Even so, are you going to tell me what's happening to you or not?"

"I can't." "Don't say nonsense." Says John, sitting by him.

"Please, look at me."

Sherlock obeys and starts deducing things about his colleague:

" Hasn't picked up his new suit from the tailor's. Phoned sister last night. There is a new post on his blog about the adventure of..."

"Sherlock?"

"Forgive me. It's exhausting."

"Pay attention. This is important. Look at me. But not to deduce. There are ways of speaking that don't need words. Now, what I'm going to use are my eyes. My look means now that I love you, I respect you and that's why I want you to tell me what's happening to you."

Tears return to Sherlock's eyes.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No. Don't worry."

He gives his hand to the detective and helps him to lie down on the bed.

"That's it. Tell me everything, please." Says John while he covers him up with a blanket. "Go on!"

Sherlock is so nervous that he's incapable of saying nothing. His friend takes his hand again and starts taking his pulse. He has counted a hundred pulsations per minute.

"I can't". Says Sherlock, putting his face on his pillow.

"Of course you can."

"No. I don't know how to start."

"The best way is doing it's from the beginning. Go ahead, Sherlock!"

CHAPTER II

"I always wanted a dog. I told daddy from the moment I started to speak. But he never paid attention and I always got toys for present.

"No. I don't want a plane. I want a dog."

But daddy laughed and told me I was too little.

In my village there has always  been a pet shop and, one day, there it was. It was an Irish setter puppy. I liked it since the first moment I saw it. My birthday wasn't far, and Mycroft spend all his savings, with the help of mum, dad and grandma Temple, in order to give me that doggie. Mycroft brought him in a white cardboard box and put it in my room the morning of my birthday. When I woke up, I heard barking in my room.

"It can't be." I thought. "I must be dreaming."

But I wasn't. There it was the box and, inside, the Setter puppy. When he saw me, he started to lick my ears and I scratched his head. That was the start of a beautiful friendship.

He was the best friend I ever had... Apart from you, John, don't look at me like that."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." Says the doctor, roaring with laughter. "Continue."

"So, he helped me to go to school and, when I got back home, he went for me. We walked a lot and play pirates. It was mum how made with hard felt the hat you saw in the picture. That's why I named him Redbeard. Mycroft didn't play with us. He said he was too old."

"That's a pity." John thinks, while he massages his friend's back to relax him.

"When summer holidays started, Redbeard and I walked through the village to the pet shop or any other shop. Everybody knew us and children played with Redbeard. I moved away from them. I always feared of making friends. I was convinced that the puppy understood me, and people didn't."

"I understand you." Says John, while he massages his neck.

"Yes. But you aren't like the rest of the people." Sherlock answers. "Ouch!" He starts feeling pain in his neck and cries: "Stop, John, stop!"

"Relax. If you are nervous, your musculature will tauten, and I will hurt you more. Try breathing deeply. Bravo, Sherlock. Again. Well, can you carry on with you tale or not?"

Sherlock sits on his bed and cover his legs with the blanket.

"Ok. Where was I? Oh, yes! Redbeard understood me. He knew if I was sad, happy or sick. Once I felt in the stairs and it was him who warned mum. You can imagine how close we were. Mycroft didn't like him at first, but he got accustomed to him. He even took his umbrella on rainy days and went for a walk with the dog. But some months past and something terrible happened... Redbeard caught leishmaniosis. I remember hearing my parents say that none of us could know what they were going to do. But Mycroft has always been better than me in recognising signals and he started to suspect something odd. One day, dad took me to grandmother Temple's house and took Redbeard to the vet. I think I haven't think of it until today and..."

The moment has come. Sherlock's eyes turn red and tears well up like waterfalls. John hugs him tightly.

"It's okay." He whispers. "Keep crying. It's good to show sentiments, Sherlock. I'm here and I will be the time you want."

"Thank you, Jonh". Says Sherlock. Doing a great effort, he has managed to hold his friend tight. It has always been very difficult for him to show his feelings, but John had helped him. Well, that is friendship, isn't it?

THE END


End file.
